And They Told Me I Couldn't Act

TAKE 27

JUST AS FAST as the waves grow warm in the sun, they grow cold and I regret my outburst quickly.

Like domino's the tiles fall quickly on the floor in breath-taking clarity. I hobble to my room, pack my bags while I feel his heavy eyes on me. I text Priscilla. Harry drives me back home. 

The air between us is humid and stifling. 

The worst part is the swallowed tears because we were good, everything briefly was good but this pride ours isn't and as slow as it was to melt down the walls, they're quick to burst up. Balloon sized and comical because all I needed to say was sorry, to pop this wall apart. 

But the words don't come, but the regret does. 

We're a pretense.

Even if he feels like a friend.

That's why I'm still surprised he picks me up, and takes me to the music video shoot where I meet an indian model who's playing Eve to the Serpent, a CGI creation who's currently a lime green long toy, that the model pretends is the Serpent. 

I try to breathe it all in, but I've never been to a music video shoot and it's far from what I expected. 

I expected something close to the set of Vanity High. 

This was far from it.

It's smaller with wires everywhere and barely space to fill the already small team. There's no snack table, barely anyone here but Harry Wolfe looks at home even if his hands shake a little from the nerves. 

The shoot isn't smooth, constant retakes of several shoots, and Harry is far from what I thought he'd be. Confident and taking charge.

Instead, he surprises me when he consults with almost everyone on the shoot, as though he isn't sure of his judgment. It's his first time behind the camera, and it's eating on him. The tight deadline, the sudden shift in direction.

I walk over from inspecting the props to behind the laptop where he's viewing the footage. I squint. "It looks good."

Immediately, he glances at me, "Are you sure?"

"I like the smirk on her, she looks like she's the one playing the snake."

Harry looks back at the footage, and nods, "You're right."

I glance at him, "Do you mind coming outside with me? I'm feeling a bit stuffy."

Irritation flashes in his eyes, I can feel the anger without a word, but he forces a grin because of course, people are watching. "Everyone take five, I'll be back."

Then he follows me, amicably, a man in love after all.

I reach for his hand and he takes it without a thought, our fingers intertwine like we haven't been having colder days than in winter. "Harry," I say softly. "Do you know, as a director, the only person's opinion that should matter is your own."

He stops but with our fingers intertwined, I have more power than he knows so I pull him along. After all, this is just a farce for him.

"There's a reason it's hard to be a director, it's because you need to know what you want and what's the best choice for this film. You can't direct unless you know what you want."

He turns away, and glances at the set at the people milling around. "What if," Harry asks me, "I don't know what I want? Or why do I do the things I do? I'm happier when someone else decides for me."

There's something in his tone that catches me off-guard. I look at him, at the downcast eyes, the hesitancy.

"I've let everyone around me make decisions for me, Nessa. Charles, my mother, the AGOT team, I can't remember the last time I've wanted for something, or made a decision to do something."

It's your album, I want to say till I realise with a chill that I told him which one was better and he merely followed my suggestion. He listened to me. But Harry likes to listen. What he's saying, makes him an ill-choice to be a director. He has no vision.

And I can see it in his face that he thinks the same. The pep talk I had planned has backfired. I could force it, lie and tell him he can do it despite his eyes, his expression of dawning horror that grows on his face.

He can't do it.

I want to lie.

I know I'm fucking good at lying.

But despite not being his fan, I still want him to succeed, I want him to be the greatest singer of all time, to beat the legends of before with the talent I know he has.

"Harry," I struggle to think of the right words, "are you really that uncertain?"

He glances down, at the space between us.

"Tell me your vision."

His brows raise, "you know my vision."

"Tell me again."

"Why?"

I poke him in the abdomen. He jumps and then glares at me, that familiar expression eases the nerves, just a bit. "Because," I say softly, quietly, "I'm going to help you dumbass."

He laughs, a nice loud breathy one. "I think," he says "that's the first time I've heard you swear."

I shove him.

But his laughter eases the residual tension between us, and he tells me his vision, his eyes alight and smiling. He looks relaxed for the first time in today's shoot. I wonder if he thinks I have the experience to do this (I don't).

I'm faking the confidence as I listen.

And I fake that confidence throughout the shoot. I direct the model, the props team, and the cameras. I pick angles that I like. I try to visualise what Harry wanted and do my best because...

I don't know.

I think I just ultimately want him to succeed.

And we finish the shoot and it could be the best thing or the worst thing but at least we've wrapped up the shoot. Harry treats the entire set for dinner and drinks and you can see how happy everyone is, including him.

But there's also something bitter in his expression.

If I could go back in time, I might have done things differently. Maybe I'd have the right words to reassure Harry that he is capable, that he needed to have more faith in himself. Maybe I'd insist he directed.

But I didn't, and at some point that pride of mine edges into vanity, after all - I'm an actress, I wouldn't crave this part of me if I didn't want to be desired, If I didn't want to win. If I didn't have the nerve for it. 

Some people are born to be there. Their vanity, their pride is just high enough to withstand the criticism that comes from having the sun shine on you. Others, as I'd slowly realise do not have the same pride, vanity or ego, their wounds are fragile little things and I'd only rub salt on it. 

AN

Thank you for the wait! I'll be uploading the next chapter on 3rd March so please do vote & comment as much as possible here :) 

Best wishes,

Pain.